Neglected
by feedmetotheforest333
Summary: John Marston x OC Rated M for mature situations and language.


"I can't do nothin' right by you!" I heard John shout, storming out of his and Abigail's tent.

"No, you can't!" Abigail shouted back, poking her head out of their tent before retreating hastily back in.

John stormed past me, and caught my eyes with his for a brief second before continuing on. He looked embarrassed, and angry, and a little sad. I always felt bad when Abigail nagged him like she did. All the man did was try, but she couldn't, or wouldn't, see it.

All the guys chuckled as he stormed past, even Arthur, but he caught my eye, too, and stopped, feeling bad. Arthur shrugged lightly at my disciplinary look and carried on his way.

John headed for his horse and, without a word to anyone, took off. I headed for my horse and followed him out.

"Hey, John," I called out, a little back on the path from him.

He looked back, slightly startled.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, riding up next to him.

"Fine. I don't really wanna talk about it," he said, looking ahead.

"That's fine. I just thought I'd ride with you," I stated.

"Uh huh," he said, picking up pace.

We rode for a while before I asked where we were headed.

"I've got some tips on a stagecoach. Thought it'd be as good a day as any," he answered.

"Surprised you didn't ask someone to come with," I said.

He shrugged. "Didn't think it'd be real hard."

I followed him down the road, mostly riding in silence.

Finally, he said, "Here we are."

We hid our horses in a cluster of trees, then John grabbed a shovel from behind one of the trees.

"I brought this out earlier, and I'm gonna dig a big hole so when they ride through, they get stuck, or break their wheel. We're gonna hide here behind this big rock, and when they stop, we're gonna take 'em for what they got," he explained as we walked out onto the road. "They should be along any time now."

"Alright. Sounds like a plan," I replied.

He dug as I kept watch. I offered to help, but he declined.

"You know," I started, "Abigail only nags at you 'cause she cares."

"Don't," he said, casting a tired glance at me. "Not now."

"I'm just sayin'," I said.

After a long silence, he stopped shoveling and turned to me.

"Look," he said. "I know she cares. But she hasn't barely touched me since that kid was born. And all she does is yell at me. It gets to me sometimes."

I didn't really know how to reply, so I didn't. He sighed and turned back to digging. When he finished digging, we grabbed some twigs and leaves, covering it so they wouldn't aim to drive around it. He stepped back, admiring our work.

"Looks good," he said, smiling at me, wiping his brow.

I swore he never smiled anymore, and it made me happy to see it. We slipped behind the rock to wait, donning our masks.

It wasn't long before a coach came rambling down the road. We both readied our guns. We listened as it got closer, then suddenly we heard a crash and a snap, and we both popped out, guns pointed toward the coach.

"We're bein' robbed!" the driver cried out.

Suddenly, three people emerged from the coach, guns drawn at us, then the driver pulled one out, too.

"Uh, John-" I said.

John grabbed me and pulled me back behind the rock, pinning me to it with his body in the same motion, as they started to fire at us. My eyes wandered up and down John for a second - we'd never been this close - then he caught me staring, and I sheepishly snapped back to, remembering our current situation.

"Shit!" he whispered. "The guy said it'd only be two people!"

"Well, he was wrong," I said, dual wielding with my other pistol.

John moved to lean against the rock beside me, pulling out his other pistol, as well.

We dodged in and out of cover, firing off shots until the four were dead. We both slumped down behind the rock, resting for a minute.

"What was that?" John asked, a little playfully.

"What was what? I should be asking you the same," I replied, gesturing behind us toward the coach, feeling my face flush.

"Come on," he said, standing and extending a hand. "Let's go get what we came for before the law shows up."

I took his hand, stood, and we hurried to the wreckage. He used the lockbreaker on the chest in the back while I rummaged the pockets of the bodies.

"Oh-" I heard from the road behind me.

I turned to see a stranger.

"Hey, now.." I said, holding up a hand in a peaceful manner. "There's no reason we can't keep this between us, yeah?"

The man quickly wheeled his horse around, and started barreling off in the direction of town.

"Shit. John!" I called, starting to run to my horse.

"Forget it. Let him go. We're done here," he said.

He came around the coach and held out two fistfuls of money and a necklace and a couple rings.

"Alright!" I exclaimed. "Good job, Marston."

I went to my horse and brought his to him, and we quickly loaded up our saddle bags and took off.

"'Bout time our luck looked up," I said as we rode away.

"Yeah," he replied. "I don't really want to get back to camp yet. You wanna drink? Its on me."

"Yeah, sure," I answered, pulling my bandana off and stuffing it in my bag.

We headed to the town in the opposite direction of the one the stranger had run off to, avoiding running into the law. We rode into Valentine and hitched the horses outside the bar.

Finding ourselves at place at the bar, John ordered four shots of whiskey.

"Whew, you're not messing around are you?" I chuckled as he scooted a shot toward me on the bar.

"It's been a day," he said, sighing.

We toasted our glasses and then shot them back. We both made that little air intake sound whiskey makes you make, slamming the glasses on the table, slammed the other two, and he called for two more. I'm not exactly sure how many times he called for two more, but eventually we were telling stories and laughing, completely forgetting about all the stress that seemed to follow us.

"I gotta step outside a second," John said after a minute, starting to stand off the bar stool.

He stumbled a bit.

"You good?" I asked, standing with him.

"Hah, yeah. I'm good," he said, shuffling toward the side door.

I sat at the bar, waiting for John's return. I ordered us another couple shots, probably our last of the night before we should head back. Abigail was going to be furious at John either way. The bartender sat the shots in front of me.

"Howdy, miss. Here alone?" a voice interjected from my side.

I looked over to some stranger standing there.

"No. Beat it," I said defiantly.

"You don't have to be rude," the man slurred, suddenly getting angry and grabbing my wrist.

"We got a problem here?"

I looked over to see John standing just inside the door, hand on his pistol. The man released me.

"She with you?" the man slurred at John.

"Yeah. She is," John replied.

"You need to teach your girl some manners," the man sputtered.

I stood from my barstool, working hard to maintain balance, grabbing the man's arm and surprisingly deftly spinning myself to him back, torquing his arm.

"This good enough manners for ya?" I hissed in his ear.

He cried out, too drunk to defend himself, and I shoved him away from me. He fell into the nearest table, sending glasses flying. Suddenly, an entire bar fight broke out, like they were just waiting for a trigger. John stumbled over to me, grabbing my arm.

"We should go," John said.

I let him lead me out the side door, and we bailed into the dark behind the bar. We both leaned on the wall, looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"I haven't started a bar fight in years," he chuckled.

"I think that's a first for me," I said.

John then brought a bottle to his lips. I gasped.

"Where did you get that?! Did you take that just now?" I asked, laughing.

He nodded and took a swig, handing me the bottle. My depth perception was a little off, and I grabbed his hand around the bottle. We made eye contact for a second, then he let go of the bottle, slipping his hand from under mine. I took a swig, and went to hand it back, but this time he kept hard eye contact with me, and he moved his body in front of mine. I swallowed hard, and I brought my fingers to his face, tracing the scars.

"John..?"

Before another word came out, his lips were pressing hard onto mine, and I was kissing him back. I twisted my fingers into his hair, pulling him into me. He pressed his body against mine, pressing me against the wall with one hand pinning my wrist, causing me to drop the bottle, and the other hand on my neck, pulling me into him. We kissed hard for a moment, then I pushed him back.

"John, what are we doin'?" I tried to reason, breathless.

"I don't know.." he said, his eyes searching mine, breathing hard.

"Should we stop?" I asked, quietly, still locked in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said, but he kissed me hard again, pressing himself into me again, and using his knee to part my legs, sliding his hands down my back to my butt, hiking me up and pinning me to the wall.

I wrapped my legs around him. A small moan escaped me as I felt him between my legs. It'd been too long, and I was too drunk; I had no willpower here.

"Not here," I gasped out between kisses.

He pressed hard into me once more, then let me down, grabbing my hand, a man on a mission. He led me swiftly to the hotel. We walked in the door, John dropped cash on the counter, and led me upstairs. He opened the door, and let me in first, the whole time not saying a word. I went into the room, knowing we shouldn't be here, but wanting to be. John followed in locked the door. I pushed him against the locked door, kissing him hard. He grabbed me and picked me up by my butt again, setting me on the table in the corner of the room. He put himself between my legs again, and I could feel how hard he was. Another moan seeped past my lips, and my hands, without my brain telling them to, went straight for his belt buckle.

John stopped kissing me and stared at my hands as they undid his buckle, and my right hand stroked down his lower stomach into his unzipped pants. I grabbed him gently, squeezing lightly, and his head tilted back, eyes closing, as a groan rolled out of his mouth. I bit my lip, and I freed him from his pants. John looked down at my hand stroking him as he breathed hard, and then met my gaze; an inferno burned in his eyes. His hands shot out to my shirt, unbuttoning the buttons and pushing it off me onto the table, then he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, dropping them to the floor. I stroked him the whole time. He ran his hand up my thigh to my panties to between my legs. His lips found mine again as he rubbed his hand over my underwear, which had to be soaking wet. I moaned into his mouth, and he slid his hand into my panties. I gasped as he moved his fingers into me.

"Oh, fuck, John," I sighed into him.

He smiled a coy smile, and he moved his fingers inside me harder and faster. He stopped kissing me, holding a hand under my jaw, staring at my face hard in full pleasure. His eyes locked on mine as I felt my insides spasm around his fingers.

"Fuck, John!" I cried out, keeping eye contact.

He dropped his pants to the floor, then he scooped me up off the table, carrying me to the bed. He laid me down, positioning himself on top of me. He took his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. I needed him inside me. I grabbed his hair with one hand, pulling his mouth to mine, and grabbed his lower back with the other, pulling his body into contact with mine.

"Fuck me, John," I demanded into his ear.

Without hesitation, John sat back on his knees and shoved himself inside of me. I moaned loudly, feeling him fill me up.

"Oh, fuck!" I cried out.

John fucked me hard, bringing a hand to my throat. I held his arm with one hand, the other holding onto the headboard of the bed. The bed thumped hard into the wall with every of John's thrusts, and I couldn't stop the pleasurable moans pouring out of me.

"Oh, John-" I started to say, but words left me as my insides contracted around John, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

John let out a growl, pulled out, and finished himself on my stomach. He laid down beside me, breathless. We laid there for a minute before I grabbed a bit of the sheet to clean myself off, rolling the sheet up and tossing it off the bed.

The longer we laid there silent, the more I didn't know what to say.

"Abigail's gonna be pissed if I come home this late," John finally said.

I had been trying not to think about Abigail at all, but as soon as we had finished, she was the first thing on my mind.

"What do we do?" I asked, quietly as we both laid there, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't really know," he answered.

I thought a minute.

"You paid for the room. You stay here tonight. I'll sneak out the back. If she asks where you were, just tell her you were working and it took longer than you thought. I'll go back to the camp tonight, and I'll tell them I was in Strawberry," I said. "They really shouldn't ask a lot of questions."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think that's best," I replied, standing and locating all my clothes.

I felt his eyes on me as I dressed. I caught him looking, and he quickly glanced away, grinning.

"Bye, John," I said, returning the grin and heading for the door.

"Be careful out there, okay?" he said.

I nodded, smiling, and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I wandered to my horse in a daze, still drunk. I hoped she'd guide us mostly home. I started off into the night.

After what seemed like forever, lost in thought, I rolled into camp. I hitched my horse up front, and headed toward Pearson's cart. I figured it'd help to get some stew in me. I scooped up a bowl and sat by the fire. After a few minutes, Arthur wandered over and sat across from me.

"You're wandering in awful late," he said. "You look rough. You okay?"

"To be honest, Arthur, I don't know. Its been a long day," I said.

"You seen John?" he asked.

I almost choked on the stew.

"I- uh- I passed by him out digging a hole in the road. Something about a stage coach. I offered to help when I left with him, but he didn't want it, so I went on," I stated, staring into the stew.

"He's stubborn, that one," Arthur chuckled.

"Hah, yeah," I replied, eating a spoonful of stew.

"I think I'm gonna turn in. Good night," Arthur said, standing up and starting toward his tent.

"'Night," I said.

When he was out of earshot, I breathed a sigh of relief. I finished my bowl, sat it on the ground, clumsily stood and stumbled to my tent. I hit my bedroll hard, passing out shortly after.


End file.
